Running From Fate
by HufflepuffBanana
Summary: Harry can remember events before Voldemort’s attack. Harry knows that he’s a wizard. Harry knows that he’ll, someday, be Dumbledore’s little puppet. And Harry refuses to be controlled. Dark!Harry, AU, eventual HPDM slash


**Title:** Running From Fate

 **Summary:** Harry can remember events before Voldemort's attack. Harry knows that he's a wizard. Harry knows that he'll, someday, be Dumbledore's little puppet. And Harry refuses to be controlled. Dark!Harry, AU, eventual HPDM slash

 **Disclaimer:** Any recognizable characters, settings, events, objects, and spells belong, not to me, but to JK Rowling. I intend no copyright infringement; I am writing this story for fun, and not for profit.

 **Warnings:** Eventual Harry/Draco, het _and_ slash _and_ femslash in varying degrees of explicitness (I feel like that's a recurring warning in my story introductions), violence, death, torture (both physically and mentally), heavy angst.

 **Notes:** I know, I know, I'm terrible, posting yet another story when almost none of my others are finished.

I've had the idea for this story for a little while. There will be many pairings, but the only one I've decided on yet is Harry/Draco. This will not be separated into different books; it will be one long file in an alternate universe.

Also, some of you might be wondering how an eight-year-old is smart enough to write like that. Well, the Dursleys don't allow Harry to do many things, and study is one of the few things that I think they _do_ let him do. So, he's smart for his age.

Here we go!

 **Chapter One**

Harry had strange dreams.

They started when he was around three and a half. He had been at the Dursleys' for two years, and the dreams were unexpected. The first was...more of a memory. It had been in the back of his mind for months, and Harry knew it. He just hadn't been able to concentrate enough to pull it to the front of his mind, so he could remember it more clearly.

He had been a baby in the dream, and there was a man there, who had Harry's black hair and unfamiliar hazel eyes and rectangular-shaped glasses. The man was making bubbles appear out of thin air, using a strange stick. Harry-the-infant was toddling around, reaching out to pop as many bubbles as he could.

Harry had more dreams like that. From them, he learned that he was a wizard, which was something he never would have thought of on his own. He learned that he was famous, because he was something called the "Boy-Who-Lived." And he learned that a strange old man, called Albus Dumbledore, was planning on using him as the Wizarding world's sacrifice. Their martyr-figure. The ultimate weapon.

Harry didn't dare tell the Dursleys about these strange dreams. That would only worsen their thought of him being mad. He was always wrong at 4 Privet Drive.

If he said something, he was wrong; if he said nothing, he was sulking. If he did something, he did it wrong; if he did nothing, he was lazy. If he was hungry in the morning, he was greedy; if he wasn't hungry in the morning, he had snuck out of his cupboard during the night for a snack. If he was early to a meal, he was greedy; if he was late to a meal, he was ungrateful. If he asked for more, he was greedy; if he asked for less, he was ungrateful. If he was badly behaved, he was lazy and greedy and ungrateful; if he was well-behaved, he was looking for attention. If he was tired in the morning, he was lazy; if he wasn't tired in the morning, he was plotting something. If he got bad grades, he was stupid; if he got good grades, he was trying to steal Dudley's victory. If he asked questions, he was taking advantage of the questioned person's knowledge; if he didn't ask questions, he thought he knew everything.

He couldn't do anything right with the Dursleys. They could always make up some excuse that he was greedy or lazy or ungrateful or stupid or trying to steal Dudley's victories or thought he knew everything or taking advantage of other people or wrong or sulking or sneaky or sloppy or self-centered or forgetful or rude or plotting something. It was Dudley who was given all the praise, all the gifts, even a proper _bedroom_.

Harry was stuck in the cupboard under the stairs with only a small mattress and a thin blanket and a few shirts and pairs of trousers. He only had two pairs of shoes (sneakers and dress shoes) and seven pairs of socks and underwear (one pair for each day of the week). When he was younger, and used to wet the bed, he would complain that he didn't have enough clean underwear, and Aunt Petunia would say that it was his fault.

Of course. It was always Harry's fault. Never Dudley's fault, or even Aunt Petunia's or Uncle Vernon's. Whenever someone made a mistake, the Dursleys would always find some way to blame it on Harry. Of course, sometimes, it really _was_ Harry's fault, but that just made it worse.

Dudley would always laugh at Harry about and blame Harry for his mistakes for _weeks_ , saying things like, "You burnt our breakfast, it's _your_ fault we skipped the most important meal of the day!" or, "You forgot to take out the garbage, it's _your_ fault the house smells terrible!" Harry learned to ignore early on, but Dudley was relentless in getting Harry to admit he was wrong. It was one of the few things he was persistent at (three others being eating, bragging, and opening gifts—he didn't care how much wrapping paper there was, he just cared that he got a gift and Harry didn't).

School wasn't much better. Harry was sure that there were a few kids who didn't think he was _completely_ insane, because of the slightly sympathetic looks they gave him, but Dudley hated Harry, and no one dared disagree with Dudley. It was almost like an unwritten rule, which there were a lot of— _especially_ on Privet Drive. And Dudley was an exception to all of them. No asking questions—unless you're Dudley. Clean your plate after meals—unless you're Dudley. Wake up right on time—unless you're Dudley. Don't eat more food than you're originally given—unless you're Dudley. Always study for thirty minutes when you return from school before doing anything else—unless you're Dudley. Harry thought it was _pathetic_.

When Harry was eight, a letter came. Harry had been sent to retrieve the mail, and there had been a letter addressed to him. He had slipped it through one of the slots on the door to his cupboard before returning to the living room to give the mail to Uncle Vernon, who promptly began sifting through it. Harry had had to hide his smile; the Dursleys didn't know that late that night, Harry would be awake, reading his letter by flashlight.

 _August 3, 1988_

 _Dear Harry:_

 _You doubtless never heard of me once you were taken to your aunt and uncle's house. My name is Remus Lupin, one of your father's good friends from school._

 _You're a wizard. I've met your aunt and uncle, though only once and because your mother dragged me along with her, and I don't doubt that they've hidden that fact from you your entire life. Yes, they know. They think that wizards and witches are "unnatural freaks."_

 _I know that they won't be treating you kindly. One look at their son that time I visited told me that; he was the only person that mattered to them, and I am certain that that fact has remained the same._

 _I do not know whether you will accept this offer, or even trust me to begin with, but feel free to write to me at any time, to talk to me about something that's on your mind or just to vent about something that's bothering you._

 _I hope you write back._

 _Remus Lupin_

And Harry had written back.

 _August 5, 1988_

 _Dear Remus:_

 _I'm not sure whether I should greet you like that, when I don't even know you. But I have a few things to tell you, and I feel that they're important._

 _First, I know I'm a wizard. I have strange dreams, and have been having them since I was about three. They have told me many things. They've told me I'm a wizard. They've told me that I'm famous, because I survived a death spell and murdered an evil man, and am now the "Boy-Who-Lived." They've told me that, when I'm old enough, I'll attend a magic school called Hogwarts._

 _Second, you're right about the Dursleys. They don't treat me kindly. I'm just they're servant and scapegoat who just so happens to be their nephew/cousin._

 _Third, you said that, at school, you were a good friend of my father's. I ask if you can tell me about my parents, about Hogwarts itself._

 _Thank you for your letter. It's lucky that I'm the person who puts mail that we have to send in the mailbox and the person who retrieves the mail everyday. Otherwise, I wouldn't have read your letter, or even known about it, because Uncle Vernon would have thrown it into the fireplace or Aunt Petunia would have put it in the paper shredder._

 _And I will write to you if something is bothering me. I don't know you, and I normally don't jump to conclusions, because I don't always trust first impressions, but you seem quite kind, and trustworthy._

 _Harry Potter_


End file.
